Just a Little Fall…
By Rona
“Squad 51, woman down, 2135 Rosebank Place, cross street West 5th. 2-1-3-5 Rosebank Place. Time out 14.50”
Rising from the table where they had been finishing a late – a very late – lunch, the paramedics hurried to the squad. Captain Stanley had acknowledged the call and handed Roy the slip of paper. Roy passed it to Johnny who marked the time on it and slid it behind the visor. He flipped through the map until he found the street and quickly began directing Roy.
“Man, I’m glad we got to eat,” Johnny sighed. “I thought this would be one of those days when we just looked at food sitting on the table.”
“I know what you mean,” Roy DeSoto, the senior paramedic agreed. “I was feeling kinda hollow myself.” He glanced over at Johnny and they shared a grin.
As unlike as the two men were, they were the best of friends, as well as being paramedic partners. John Gage was lanky, dark-haired and dark eyed with a crooked grin that drove the ladies wild. He was seldom still, talked endlessly and was full of wild schemes. He was very happily a bachelor and in no hurry to be married, although he always had a lady friend on his arm.
On the other hand, Roy was happily married with a couple of kids. He tended to be quieter, steadier and a listener. Roy was a year the older of the two, but sometimes he felt like Johnny was just one of his kids. Yet for all their differences, they worked together smoothly and with remarkably little friction.
It took no more than 10 minutes for them to reach their destination. Johnny grabbed the biophone and drug box from the compartment on the squad and hurried to the door. Roy grabbed the trauma box and oxygen, just in case. ‘Woman down’ didn’t give them much to work on.
“Fire department!” Johnny called, knocking on the door.
“Come in, it’s open,” a feminine voice replied and Johnny twisted the handle.
The door opened into an airy great room. The woman in question was half-sitting, half lying at the bottom of the stairs. A telephone was on the floor beside her and an over-turned table showed where it had been placed. A small black kitten arched its back and hissed at the two men before fleeing at high speed out of sight into another room. “Please close the door so he doesn’t get out,” the woman begged. “I’d hate to lose him; I’ve only had him a few weeks.”
Obligingly, Roy shut the door, while Johnny put down his burdens and knelt by her side. “I’m John Gage and this is my partner Roy DeSoto,” he began, smiling at her. “What seems to be the problem?” He was pretty aware of what the problem was already, his trained eyes having spotted the odd angle of her lower leg.
“I tripped over the kitten coming down the stairs,” the woman replied. “He just dashed between my legs and down I went.” She tried to laugh, but it ended on a sob.
“Just let me look at you here,” Johnny smiled. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Oh, I’m Laura Draper.” She sniffed, obviously trying to stop her tears, but they escaped her control. “I feel such a fool, crying like this.”
“Now, Laura, I’m sure your leg is really sore and I don’t blame you at all for crying,” Johnny soothed as he took her pulse. “I’ll just get your BP here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll need an ambulance, Roy and a splint.” He quickly took her BP and relayed the information to Roy, who had ordered an ambulance and contacted Rampart hospital. “You’ve got quite a few bruises here,” Johnny commented neutrally.
There was another teary laugh. “When did you last have a new kitten?” she asked. By this time, the small animal had come out from hiding and was sitting on Laura’s lap, purring vigorously. “He follows me everywhere and it’s taken me a while to remember to look before I walk. Today, I forgot, because I didn’t realise that he could climb the stairs.” She wiped her face. “Oh dear, my husband is going to be able to say ‘I told you so’.” She stroked the small head and the purring increased. The volume was quite something from such a small creature. Charmed, Johnny tickled the animal behind the ears.
As the paramedics prepared Laura for transport, Johnny became truly aware of the number of bruises Laura had on her arms and alarm bells began to ring in his mind; some of them looked distinctly hand-shaped to him, but his attention was frequently distracted by the kitten, who took rather a fancy to him. Johnny finally had to scoop up the small animal and take him to another room where he shut the door firmly behind him. Immediately, disconsolate yowls could be heard.
Just as the ambulance attendants finished loading Laura onto the stretcher, a large man pushed into the house, looking confused and angry. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Laura?”
“Oh, Peter,” Laura replied, and burst into tears once more. “Peter, I… I seem to have broken my leg.”
“What?” he barked, looking more confused than ever. He made no move to cross to the stretcher to comfort his wife and Johnny hid his sudden dislike of the man behind a professional mask.
“Your wife tripped over her kitten and fell downstairs, sir,” Roy explained. He understood the confusion the man felt, but like Johnny, wondered why he hadn’t come closer to his wife. He knew his own first reaction would be to grasp Joanne’s hand to give her what comfort he could. “We’re transporting her to Rampart hospital. You’re welcome to ride in the front of the ambulance, or to follow in your own car.”
“That kitten!” Peter growled and Johnny felt the hair stand up at the back of his neck.
“It was an accident, Peter,” Laura wept. “Please, he’s just a baby and you know how clumsy I am.”
“Sir,” Roy said, touching Peter’s arm so that he moved to let the stretcher out. He went out to the ambulance, leaving Johnny to pick up the last of their belongings.
“Mr Draper, do you want to ride in the ambulance?” Johnny asked when the man made no move at all.
“No!” Draper snapped. He glared at Johnny as though this whole incident had been the paramedic’s fault.
“I know it’s a shock, sir,” Johnny offered, “but I’ve seen injuries like your wife’s before. She’ll be fine.” Rising, Johnny took once last glance around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything and headed out to the squad. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to deal with Mr Draper any more. Charitably, the paramedic decided that not everyone could be good in a crisis and Mr Draper happened to be one of those. He put the equipment away and climbed into the squad, following after the ambulance.
He didn’t give Mr Draper another thought.
*************************************
A guilty conscience could imbue an innocent remark with all kinds of meaning that it didn’t have. Although Peter Draper felt no conscious guilt about the way he treated his wife, he knew that society in general didn’t approve of men who hit their spouses. Laura was too cowed to make any protest and he made sure that she was kept on a very tight financial rein so that she couldn’t afford to leave. In a moment of weakness, after a particularly brutal beating, he had agreed to Laura getting a kitten. The small animal hated him and the feeling was quite mutual, but it was another way to keep his wife under his absolute control. He simply threatened to get rid of the kitten if Laura displeased him.
But now – that paramedic! What had Laura said to him? What had he seen that caused him to threaten Peter like that? He had to get to the hospital now and start damage control. Once Laura was home safely again, he could see that the paramedic would keep his mouth shut! How dare he judge Peter? He was only a civil servant and an Indian to boot. He was sure the other paramedic, a decent white man, would never have made those presumptuous comments. That was what came of allowing Indians to think they were the same as white folks. The only good Injun is a dead Injun. The old saying made Peter smile as he hurried out to his car to go to the hospital.
**************************************
“How’s the lady?” Johnny asked Roy as the latter approached Dixie’s desk. The nurse was filling out a chart and glanced up to smile at Roy. She had seen the pair of them regularly throughout the day.
“She’ll be okay,” Roy replied. “Broken tib-fib at the least,” he added. He made a show of looking around. “Say, where’s your furry little friend? I thought sure you’d bring him along.”
“Ha-ha,” Johnny retorted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think he was cute.”
“It wasn’t me he was making up to,” Roy reminded his partner. “I’m just surprised that it wasn’t a female cat.” He smirked at Dixie. Johnny made a face back at him.
“Maybe the lady got the gender wrong,” contributed Dixie, filing the chart. “It’s been known to happen.”
“Don’t you start!” Johnny complained. “C’mon, Roy, let’s get back to the barn before they call us out again.” He headed off up the corridor, HT swinging from his wrist.
“Bye, Dixie,” Roy murmured and followed him, grinning.
Grinning herself, Dix bent her head to her next chart. A few minutes later, a man fetched up beside her desk and cleared his throat. “Can I help you?” Dixie asked.
“I hope so,” the man replied. “My name is Peter Draper; my wife Laura was just brought in by a couple of paramedics. I didn’t get the chance to thank them – I was kind of surprised to see them there and…” He stopped and cleared his throat again. “I didn’t get their names and I would like to thank them.”
“I’ll pass the message on,” Dix assured him, but Mr Draper persisted.
“I would like to thank them myself. Laura said they were very kind to her, especially the dark-haired man, but she can’t remember their names either.” He smiled. “Please?”
“Of course,” Dixie returned, charmed in spite of herself. “The dark haired one is John Gage and his partner is Roy DeSoto. They are with Station 51.”
“Thank you. I’ll drop them a note. I’m much obliged, ma’am.” Smiling at her, he left.
‘Nice man,’ Dixie thought vaguely and forgot all about him as she concentrated on the work at hand.
**************************
Station 51 was easy enough to find. Draper scouted the area out, watching the men as they went about their business in the station. It was a warm day and the big doors were open to the bay at the front and the back and from his vantage point, he was able to see the men hanging hose and washing the engine and squad. His eyes narrowed as he spied his quarry and when the station was toned out to a fire, he took the opportunity to drive into the car park. He’d show that uppity Indian!
***************************
“Gage?” Chet called. “Hey, Gage, have you seen your car?”
“You’d better not have done anything to it, Chet!” Gage threatened as he walked out to where Chet stood by the trash cans.
“I haven’t touched it,” Chet replied and his tone was full of regret. “But look. I’m sorry, man.”
Outraged and stunned, Johnny gazed at his car. All the glass in the Rover was smashed. “Oh man!” He ran a hand through his hair. “Who coulda done this?”
The other firemen gathered around, making sympathetic noises. None of the other vehicles had been touched and none of them could understand the random vandalism. “I’ll call the police,” Cap offered. “Then we can get someone to repair your car.”
“Thanks, Cap,” Johnny replied. He opened his mouth to say something else and the tones went off for the squad. “Oh man! Talk about bad timing.”
“You go, we’ll deal with this,” Cap assured his distraught paramedic. “Go.”
“Thanks,” Johnny called over his shoulder as he ran to the squad. Mike acknowledged the call and handed the slip of paper to Roy.
***************************
By the time they got back to the station, the police had been and Johnny’s insurance company had made arrangements for his Rover to be repaired and a rental car was sitting in its place. Johnny once again muttered his thanks to his captain as the exhausted paramedics dragged themselves to the table.
Luckily, they were able to eat their meal before the tones went off again, summoning them to an hotel fire. It was a bad one and B shift had been waiting for them by the time they got back to the station next morning.
“Want to come home for breakfast?” Roy asked as they went to their cars after a quick shower.
“Thanks, Roy but I’ll take a rain check,” Johnny replied, smothering a yawn. “I’m beat and you’re beat. Tell Joanne hi, though.”
“Drive carefully,” Roy advised and Johnny nodded before climbing into his rental vehicle.
It had been a long 24 hours and although Johnny knew he needed groceries, he decided to wait till after he woke up, even though there was nothing much to eat at his apartment. Sleep was far more important and he knew too well the dangers of falling asleep behind the wheel.
Arriving at his apartment, he noticed that the car park was mostly deserted, as it usually was at this time of the day. He swung his car into his usual parking spot which had the advantage of being shaded by trees all day long, keeping the interior of his vehicle fairly cool. It was also about as far from the door to the apartment block as it could be and not overlooked by any windows.
As he was leaning into the back of the car to retrieve his dirty uniforms, a voice spoke from behind Johnny. “John Gage?”
“Yes?” Johnny straightened and looked at the man addressing him. He looked vaguely familiar but before he could place the other, the man swung a large fist at him and knocked the air from his lungs.
After that, things became confused. Johnny tried desperately to block the blows that rained down on him, but he was stunned by that first blow. His body became one huge pain as the fists pounded into him. He slid down the body of the car behind him, his legs giving out but the assault didn’t stop. Hands grabbed his hair and bashed his head viciously off the vehicle several times until Johnny’s tenuous hold on consciousness abruptly gave way. He tumbled into the darkness.
************************
As her huge black Labrador, Guiness, bounded off across another grassy area by the sidewalk, Liz sighed. Guiness had been such a cute, tiny little puppy when she had fallen in love with him. She still loved him dearly, but he needed vast amounts of exercise each day and there were times she wished she had a smaller dog. Guiness paused to look back at her, his mouth open, tongue hanging out in a doggy smile, his tail wagging energetically. Liz couldn’t help but smile. “Go on then,” she encouraged and the muscular black dog bounded over the grass, following some delicious scent only he could smell.
Out of the blue, Guiness began to bark. Startled, Liz stopped walking and called him. Unusually for such a well-trained dog, Guiness did not go to her, but barked again. Uncertainly, Liz went over to where he was and then saw what was making her dog bark. A man lay sprawled on the asphalt parking lot, almost completely hidden by his car. He was unconscious and bleeding and Liz felt a scream escape her control.
There was no one else around and Liz despised girls who couldn’t cope with emergency situations. Mind you, she had never had to deal with one like this, but she used her common sense (something she thought was in short supply) and raced over to the apartment complex. The first door she saw was labelled ‘supervisor’ and she hammered on the door. “I need help!” she cried. “Please!”
The door opened and Johnny’s landlord popped out. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a man hurt in the parking lot,” Liz replied. “You need to call for a squad and an ambulance. Hurry!”
“One of my tenants is a paramedic,” the super advised her complacently. “I’ll just get him.”
“Wait!” Liz grabbed his arm. “Call for help first. This guy looks in a really bad way.” She pointed to where Johnny lay.
“All right. Looks like Johnny ain’t home yet anyway. His car ain’t there.” He went inside and Liz could hear him on the phone. Anxiously, she went back to the unconscious man. Guiness was standing guard over him. “They’re comin’,” the super advised and then gasped. “Oh my God! It’s Johnny!”
****************************
The paramedics who arrived on the scene were as stunned at the sight of Johnny as his landlord had been. Liz hovered anxiously, holding Guiness’s collar as the men worked, but the big dog showed no signs of wanting to see off the medics.
“How long as he been like this?” asked Jim Parker as he took Johnny’s vitals.
“I don’t know,” Liz replied. “We rang you straight away when I found him.” She glanced at the landlord.
“I didn’t see Johnny coming home today,” he admitted. “This isn’t his car. I did think he was a bit late, but I didn’t know what he had planned. Sometimes he spends the day with Roy and the kids. I never saw anything.”
It was now nearing noon. Alex Miller, Jim’s partner glanced at his watch. “He could have been here since 9am,” he speculated worriedly.
“Not as long as that,” Jim disagreed. “51s had that big hotel shout last night. I know that 36s was there, too and they didn’t get back to the barn until gone 9. So, allowing time for a shower, then the drive home...” He made a face. “We’re still talking maybe 10.30.” He picked up the biophone. “Rampart, this is squad 15 how do you read?”
“Read you loud and clear, 15, go ahead,” Dix answered.
“Rampart, we have a male, age approximately 27, the victim of an assault. He is unconscious at this time and appears to have been beaten. Vitals are…” He paused to gather his thoughts before he gave the vital signs. They weren’t truly dreadful but they weren’t great either. “Rampart, please be advised – the patient is John Gage.”
There was a stunned silence before Dixie acknowledged the call. Moments later, Dr Brackett was on the air, issuing instructions. The ambulance arrived and it was a matter of only a few more minutes before Johnny was strapped onto the stretcher. Jim went with him while Alex picked up the trash. Liz peered worriedly after the ambulance.
“Will he be all right?” she asked.
“I hope so,” Alex replied. “I really hope so.”
*******************************
“His status is unchanged,” Jim reported as he guided the stretcher towards the treatment room. “He is groaning regularly now and responds to painful stimuli. Vitals are stable.”
“Do we know how long he’s been unconscious?” Brackett asked, gazing at his friend’s bloody, bruised face.
“No,” Jim replied, hanging the IV bag on the stand. “He was found in the parking lot of his apartment building by a lady walking her dog. That’s all we know. We know that 51s was late getting back after the hotel fire last night, but that still leaves a lot of time he could have been lying there.”
“Thanks, Jim,” Brackett answered, leaning over his patient.
“Has anyone called Roy?” Jim asked, backing towards the door.
“There’s no answer,” Dixie told him. “We’ll keep trying.” Jim nodded and left.
“Johnny? Can you hear me?” Brackett applied his knuckles to Johnny’s chest and got a groan in response. “I want a full skull series and draw blood for tests,” he told Dix.
“Got it,” Dix replied, and finished cutting off Johnny’s clothes before covering him with a sheet. She crossed to the phone.
Meanwhile, Brackett drew the sheet back to carefully examine Johnny’s abdomen, which was soft but bore signs of bruising. Probing several of the discolourations made Johnny groan some more. Brackett frowned. “We’ll have a chest series, too,” he said. “I think there might be some ribs broken.” He continued with his examination but didn’t find anything else too serious. He leaned over Johnny again and prised open the swollen eyelids to check pupil response. They were still sluggish.
A hand batted vaguely against his arm. “Johnny? Can you hear me?”
“Don’…” Johnny begged, his voice slurred. “No… please… don’…”
“Johnny, its Dr Brackett. Can you open your eyes for me?”
Lying on the table, Johnny wished they would just leave him alone. His head felt like it was going to explode and it hurt to breathe. He had no idea what had happened to him and now this voice was bugging him. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but he recognised the tone and so tried to open his eyes. Squinting horribly, he managed to peer upwards but the light was far too bright and he allowed the weighted lids to fall shut again.
“Johnny? Do you know where you are?” Brackett exchanged a glance with Dixie. This did not look good at all.
“No…” Johnny replied, sounding uncertain. He swallowed with difficulty and tried to lick his broken, split lips. Even that small movement caused him great pain. “Hurts…” he complained.
Although he didn’t remember it, this was not the first time Johnny had regained consciousness. He had come to several times since the attack but lacking any stimulation to stay awake had drifted off again.
“I know,” Brackett soothed. “We’ll get you something for that soon. Can you answer some questions, Johnny?”
“Try…” Johnny agreed. Concentrating made his head pound more.
“What hurts, Johnny?”
“Everythin’…” Johnny whispered. “Head… ribs… all…” He couldn’t complete the thought. “Ooh… sick…” The nausea was overwhelming and Brackett barely got him turned before he vomited.
The treatment room door opened and the portable x-ray machine rolled in. Dixie finished cleaning Johnny up as Brackett told the technician what he wanted and they stepped outside. “I want a CT scan as soon as we get those x-rays,” Brackett said. “Why would someone do something like this to Johnny of all people?! Was he mugged do you think?”
“No, his wallet was there and there was some money in it,” Dixie reported. “He still had his watch, too.”
“I just don’t understand,” Brackett complained. “Dixie, could you get me Joe Early? I think we’re going to need a neurology consult. And try Roy again; he’s Johnny next-of-kin.”
“Got it.” Dixie patted Kel’s arm and hurried down to her desk. Kel waited impatiently for the x-ray tech to finish.
**********************************
The ringing of the phone penetrated Roy’s foggy mind this time. He blinked at the bright sun in his room for a moment before fumbling for the receiver. “’llo,” he mumbled.
“Roy, its Dixie,” said the familiar husky voice on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry to wake you, but Johnny has been brought in and he’s in a bad way. We need you to come down.”
“What?” Roy demanded. “Johnny? What’s wrong with him? Oh God, did he crash his car?” He pushed the entangling blankets from his legs and sat up straighter, sleep pushed from his mind by a huge surge of adrenalin.
“He’s been beaten up,” Dixie told him. “He’s got a head injury although we’re not sure how serious it is right now. We’re waiting for x-rays.”
“I’m on my way,” Roy assured her and dropped the receiver back into its rest. He hauled on the first clothes that came to hand and then paused. Snatching up the phone, he dialled Cap’s number and left a message with Cap’s wife. Then, after scribbling a note for Joanne, he ran to the car and headed for Rampart.
**********************************
It seemed to take forever before he arrived. Roy hurried from the car into the familiar emergency entrance. Dixie was at her desk and she looked up and smiled at him. “How is he?” Roy demanded.
“He’s having a CT scan,” Dix replied. “Kel’s in his office waiting for you. He’ll bring you up to speed.”
“Thanks,” Roy replied. His mind was reeling. CT? Beaten up? Johnny had been going home to sleep! What on earth had happened? He hoped the doctor might know something more. He knocked on Brackett’s door and went in when told to do so. “Doc?”
“Sit down, Roy,” Kel replied. His mouth twitched and Roy knew him well enough to know that this was not a good sign. “Johnny was found in the parking lot of his apartment by someone walking their dog. He has been badly beaten. We don’t know how long he’d been lying before he was found, but we’re estimating an hour or so.”
“An hour?” Roy’s mouth was as dry as a desert and his heart was thumping so hard he thought Brackett could probably hear it.
“The x-rays show he has a couple of broken ribs on each side and a skull fracture.” Brackett paused to let that sink in. “His nose is broken, too. He looks a mess, Roy. We’ve sent him to CT to see what’s happening inside his head. When he comes back, we’ll stitch up a couple of cuts and then send him to neurology. He has a severe concussion and will need to be monitored closely.”
“Who did it and why?” Roy demanded. He could hardly believe it.
“We don’t know, but Lieutenant Crockett is on the way in. Apparently there was an incident at the station yesterday?” Brackett’s voice rose questioningly.
“I’d forgotten about that,” Roy mumbled. “When we got back from a fire, we found that someone had smashed all the glass in Johnny’s Rover. His insurance company collected the car and left him a rental while we were out on a run. Then, we were out all night and when we got back, we just went home. I invited Johnny for breakfast but we were both beat.” He dragged a hand over his face. “He was found in the parking lot? Beside his car?”
“Beside a car,” Brackett replied. “I can’t tell you more than that.”
“Was he robbed?” Roy asked, as perplexed as Brackett.
“No, Dix has all his personal possessions.” Brackett shook his head then glanced at his watch. “Come on, he should be coming back soon.”
Following Brackett down to the treatment room, Roy was hailed by Captain Stanley who had arrived. “How is he?” he asked.
Quickly, Roy told Hank everything he knew and as they talked, the elevator doors opened and Johnny was wheeled out. Both men move to look at the supine figure on the gurney and gasped. Johnny looked dreadful. His eyes were swollen shut and turning black. His nose was displaced and his lower face was caked in dried blood. His lips were swollen and split. He breathed heavily through his slightly open mouth.
No stranger to traumatic injuries, Roy nonetheless felt suddenly sick. This was his partner, who was closer to him than a brother, a man who would not hurt anyone. To see him so hurt and vulnerable was a blow that Roy hadn’t been expecting. He had seen Johnny sick and injured before but not like this. Someone had deliberately set out to hurt Johnny and Roy found that concept extremely unsettling.
Both men went into the treatment room and Dixie cleaned up Johnny’s face gently while Kel looked at the broken nose. Johnny groaned and tried to fight him off. Roy silently, without prompting, crossed the room and took his partner’s hand. “Easy, Junior,” he soothed and Johnny did settle, squeezing Roy’s hand when the pain became bad. Brackett started suturing cuts.
The door opened and Joe Early came in. “Roy, Hank,” he greeted them pleasantly. He exuded an air of calm that Roy appreciated at this moment. “There’s no bleeding or swelling in the brain, but obviously we’ll keep an eye on him. Has his grip on consciousness improved?”
“Not really,” Kel replied. “He’s responding to pain but is still slow to respond to verbal stimuli.” He gestured to Roy. “You try, Roy.”
“Johnny? Can you hear me?” He squeezed Johnny’s hand.
“Roy?” whispered the thin voice. “It hurts. I… I…can’t see. Too… bright…blurry… hurts.”
“That’s the concussion, Johnny,” Roy soothed. “It’s okay.”
“Let’s get him settled upstairs,” Joe proposed. “We’ll keep a close eye on him for a few days.” He patted Roy on the shoulder. “You and Hank can visit for a few minutes once he’s settled, then we need to let him rest.” He nodded to the orderlies and they wheeled the gurney out.
Sighing, Brackett looked at Roy. “Things look all right at the moment. He will need to see the maxillofacial surgeon in a few days about fixing his nose but we’ll need to wait for the swelling to go down.”
“What about his eyesight?” Hank asked.
“We’ll keep an eye on that, too,” Brackett assured him, “but it’s probably a combination of the concussion and the swelling of the actual eyes. His pupils are quite dilated right now, which is a direct effect of the head injury. It’ll take some time to settle down but I don’t anticipate problems.” He summoned a smile. “Why don’t you go and see him and then get some more sleep? He should be a bit more aware later and you’ll be able to see him then.”
************************
When Roy returned later that afternoon, Johnny was sleeping. He sat down in the hideously uncomfortable chairs that were meant, he was sure, to deter visitors from out-staying their welcome and tiring patients out. His partner was still hooked to an IV, his ribs were bandaged and the cuts that Brackett had sutured were dressed. He looked a mess. The bruising was still darkening on his face and Roy guessed that Johnny would barely be able to open his eyes given the severe swelling. He was breathing harshly through his mouth.
Sighing, Roy slumped down. He had spoken to Crockett earlier but they were coming up a blank on both the vandalism on Johnny’s car and the attack on Johnny’s person. Roy had been no help. He couldn’t think of anyone who held a grudge against the younger man.
The room door opened quietly and Joe Early came in. He smiled at Roy before leaning over the bed. “Johnny, can you hear me? Sorry to bother you, but I need you to wake up for me again. Johnny?”
A hideous groan was his only answer, but Early seemed unperturbed by it. “I know,” he sympathised. “Everything hurts, but I do need you to wake up. Roy’s here.”
After a few seconds, Johnny’s eyes cracked open a slit and Johnny turned his head slightly, clearly seeking Roy. “Wha…?” he mumbled.
“Do you know where you are?” Early asked, flashing his penlight into Johnny’s eyes.
“Ugh,” Johnny cried, trying to push the light away. “It… hurts, doc.” He swallowed dryly and Early held a straw to his lips and Johnny sipped gingerly. “Wha… did… you… say? Roy?”
“That’s right,” Early smiled. “Now, can you tell me where you are?”
“Ram-rampart?” he asked, clearly uncertain.
“That’s right,” Early nodded. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Uh… John… Gage.”
“Hi, Johnny. Do you know what day it is?” Joe Early glanced at Roy and smiled. This, it seemed, was an improvement.
“No,” Johnny mumbled. “Doc… what… happened?”
“You were hurt,” Early replied patiently. “Can you see any better, Johnny?”
“No,” was the reply. “Just… bright.”
“All right, you rest now,” Early told him. “Do you want something for pain?” At the affirmative, Early injected something into the IV port. “Why don’t you try and talk to Roy for a while?”
“Roy?” Johnny seemed to have forgotten his partner was there but Roy was unsurprised, knowing the results of a concussion.
“Right here, Johnny,” he said and placed his hand over Johnny’s. He was slightly surprised when his partner gripped his hand tightly.
“Roy… you… hurt?” Johnny asked.
Touched, Roy squeezed his hand before replying. “No, Johnny, I’m fine,” Roy assured him. “And you’re going to be all right, too.”
Sighing, Johnny moved slightly on the bed and winced. “Don’… feel… all… right,” he mumbled around his spilt lips. “Roy…” He paused and licked his lips so Roy gave him some more water. “Roy… I… I… can’t… see.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Roy told him. “Your eyes are pretty swollen – you’ve got a couple of huge shiners, Junior. That’s why you can’t see; you can’t open your eyes properly.” Roy knew that head injuries could affect the optic nerve but guessed that the doctors hadn’t been able to examine his eyes properly given the extent of the swelling.
“They won’t… let me… sleep,” Johnny complained.
“You’ve got a head injury, Johnny,” Roy soothed. “They need to make sure you’re not slipping into a coma.”
There was another sigh. Roy could sense that Johnny was quickly getting nearer sleep. He said nothing more, simply holding Johnny’s hand and letting his friend get the rest he so badly needed. Just when he thought Johnny was soundly asleep, his friend’s body jumped and he cried out, “No! Don’t hit me!”
Quickly, Roy soothed Johnny back into sleep, but his heart was pounding. It seemed that somewhere in his subconscious, Johnny did indeed remember what had happened to him.
**********************************
“In a way, Roy, that’s good,” Joe Early said. “I know it’s disturbing when you hear something out of the blue like that, but it suggests that any bump the brain has had isn’t too serious. Johnny may never remember everything that happened today, but this suggests that he might – just might, mind – regain his memory fully. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Sighing, Roy leaned against the nurses’ station. “Wait and see is the hardest part,” he commented.
“I know,” Early replied and patted the paramedic on the shoulder. “But Johnny’s doing well. He’s easier to rouse every time we go in and given how deeply unconscious he was to begin with, that’s a huge improvement.”
“What about his eyes?” Roy asked. He knew he was asking for definitive news when it was too early but right now, he was thinking like a worried friend, not a paramedic.
Making a face, Early replied, “Wait and see again, I’m afraid. Until he can open his eyes and we can see in we just have to hope. But you know as well as I do that visual disturbance is one of the symptoms of concussion and Johnny’s concussion is severe. Don’t forget he has a fractured skull. It’s all just going to take time and right now, we don’t know exactly how much time. Johnny’s going to be here for several more days.”
“Thanks, doc,” Roy smiled and went back to sit with Johnny for a little while longer.
****************************
Johnny was exhausted. He didn’t know how long he’d been at Rampart and he still wasn’t too clear why he was there, but he wished they would leave him to sleep. Despite the painkillers, his head thumped mercilessly all the time and his ribs ached dully unless he moved, when they flared to agonising life. Now, when he was finally being allowed to sleep for more than an hour at a time, someone was poking at his broken nose.
“Mr Gage?” The voice was deep and reassuring – not unlike Brackett’s rich voice. Johnny knew this was the maxillofacial surgeon and he was relieved that he remembered being introduced to the man. Not that he could remember his name, but…
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to take you to theatre to set your nose, Mr Gage. Some of the swelling has gone down and we can’t wait any longer to do this. We’re going to have you deeply sedated but because of your head injury, we won’t be using general anaesthesia. Do you understand?” A steadying hand was on his shoulder and Johnny wondered who it belonged to. It felt masculine.
“I unnerstand,” Johnny replied. “When?”
“Right away, I’m afraid. The sooner the better and no time like the present and all those other clichés.” There was a chuckle in the voice. Johnny wished he could see. It was weird having a conversation with a disembodied voice.
“Oh… okay, I guess,” Johnny allowed, although he was sure they would do it even if he didn’t agree. And it was slightly more reassuring that he wouldn’t have to face the dreadful vomiting that usually accompanied a general anaesthetic. He had been fortunate that he had not had significant vomiting after his injury for it would have been less than pleasant given how badly broken his nose was.
Something cold suddenly trickled into his arm via the IV and Johnny was startled. The surgeon certainly wasn’t kidding when he said right away. Johnny drifted away immediately and was dimly glad that he hadn’t had time to worry about this procedure.
****************************
Waking up was sheer hell. His nose was packed with cotton and a light cast covered it. He wore an oxygen mask but initially, it felt like he was smothering. A voice spoke somewhere nearby, but Johnny was sure it had nothing to do with him.
As his level of awareness improved, Johnny realised that the voice – a nurse he presumed – was speaking to him after all. “That’s it,” she murmured repetitively. “Breathe through your mouth. You’re fine.”
Drawing in a breath, Johnny coughed and moments later was being supported as he coughed up a small amount of blood from the back of his throat. A sip of water soothed his throat and the mask was replaced. Johnny felt ghastly. His head had been thumping before – it was 10 times worse now. He groaned.
“I know,” the nurse soothed. “But you’ve got humidified oxygen on so your mouth shouldn’t get so dry. You’re doing very well, Mr Gage.”
“My head’s… going to… explode,” Johnny told her and she patted his shoulder.
“I’ll page Dr Leven and see if he’ll authorise anything else for pain,” she offered and Johnny grunted his agreement and thanks. She returned presently and he felt something in his IV. It didn’t seem to him that the pain lessened any but he drifted off to sleep.
When he next woke, Roy was there. Johnny had groaned as he wakened and immediately a hand appeared on his arm. “Hey, how’re you doing?” Roy asked quietly.
“Awful,” Johnny replied, his voice muffled by the mask but Roy could hear the misery.
“You’ve been asleep for a while,” Roy told him. “You’re probably due something for pain. I’ll get the nurse.” He pressed the call button, keeping his hand on Johnny’s arm. He hadn’t thought it possible for Johnny to look any worse, but his imagination had been found wanting. Johnny looked dreadful; pale and bruised already, the surgery had drained any colour from the paramedic’s face and his eyes seemed even more swollen to Roy’s despairing gaze.
“I want…this to… be over,” Johnny mumbled. He accepted some water gratefully. “Why did… this happen?”
“That’s something we all want an answer to,” Roy replied.
For the first time, Johnny wondered exactly what had happened to him. Nobody had told him and he had felt so tired that he hadn’t persisted in finding out. He assumed he had been hurt on duty. More than ever, he wished he could see. “Roy? Didn’t I… get hurt… in a fire?”
Taken by surprise, Roy hesitated. That was answer enough for Johnny in itself. “Roy? How was… I hurt? Roy?”
“Um, you were beaten up,” Roy told him gently.
“What?” Johnny was startled. For a moment, he could almost see… something that vanished as swiftly as it had come. “Beaten up? Me? But who… did it? Why?”
“We don’t know,” Roy replied. “You were found in the parking lot of your apartment building.” He studied Johnny closely. “The police want to talk to you when the doctors say its okay. Do you remember anything?”
After a moment’s thought, Johnny started to shake his head but desisted as the throb increased. “No… just…impressions.” He sighed, exhausted by this new turn of events. His most pressing worry resurfaced as the nurse gave him his medication. “Roy… my eyes…”
“Are very swollen,” Roy interjected. “You still can’t open them more than a tiny bit. That’s why you can’t see anything. And you know that a head injury can make your vision blurred.”
“How serious is it?” Johnny mumbled, drifting off towards sleep again. Roy was reassured by the question. Even 48 hours ago, Johnny had been incapable of asking questions, let alone trying to find out how sick he was.
“You’ve got a fractured skull and a severe concussion,” Roy told him. “But I think you’re on the mend.”
“Thaass good,” Johnny slurred and slid into sleep.
**********************************
The ‘random’ attack on a county firefighter had made the local evening news and Peter Draper found it all immensely satisfying. The upstart Indian had been taught a lesson that he should have had years ago. Nobody would be able to give Peter his deserved praise, but he didn’t mind; enough people out there would be grateful to that unknown someone. He smothered a grin as a picture of Johnny flashed onto the screen along with a number that any witnesses could call. The Injun hadn’t looked anything like that when Peter left him.
“Isn’t that one of the paramedics who came here?” Laura asked. She was standing awkwardly at the sink washing the dishes. She had been told to rest as much as possible by the hospital but she knew that she couldn’t neglect her chores – Peter would make her pay for it if she did. Her leg was aching fiercely but she didn’t dare say anything. “Poor man – I wonder what happened? He was so kind to me and was so careful with the kitten.” Her eyes strayed to the small cat which was shut into a travelling cage.
Too late, Laura realised her mistake. “Are you telling me you feel sorry for that scum?” Peter bellowed. “He’s trash! Not fit to touch a white woman!”
“I… I… didn’t mean anything,” Laura stammered. “I… wasn’t thinking, Peter. I’m sorry.” She cowered away from her husband.
Grabbing his wife by the throat, Peter glared into her face. “You did mean it,” he whispered and Laura was even more frightened. “You liked that Injun trash didn’t you? Do you think he’d look at you twice? He deserved everything he got and more!”
“Peter, please,” Laura whispered. She was terrified. “I didn’t mean anything. Please don’t hurt me!”
“I never do anything to you that you don’t deserve,” Peter told her. “You’re stupid and lazy – just like that Injun. You’re no better than he is, but I’m teaching you.” He tightened his grip slightly. “I don’t want to hear another word about that Injun – not another word about anything from you tonight, do you understand?” He shook her. “Or else you’ll end up looking like he does now and you wouldn’t like that, Laura.”
Too terrified to say a word, Laura wondered how Peter knew what the injured paramedic looked like now.
**********************************
There was another item on the news about Johnny the next morning. Laura didn’t say anything and tried to keep her eyes averted from the screen but couldn’t resist stealing one more glance. John Gage had been kind to her and she was well aware that he was a good-looking man. Peter had taken a strap to her the night before and she was incredibly sore. Thoroughly cowed, Laura wondered again how Peter had known what the paramedic looked like now he was hurt. She was afraid – really afraid – that she might know the answer.
Her fears were confirmed when Peter prepared to go to work. He took her crutches away from her and locked her into the bathroom. “You’re not to watch your Injun lover on the TV news,” he told her. “You’ll learn to be a decent woman if it kills you!”
Left alone, Laura sobbed out her fear. She was sure her husband had caused the paramedic’s injuries and much as she feared for her own life, she now also feared for the innocent paramedic.
********************************
When evening came, Johnny was exhausted. However, he had felt a bit better that day and his need for pain relief had lessened. He was sleeping more comfortably and although he couldn’t open his eyes very far, he could see more than just the bright blur he had been viewing for the past few days. Johnny still wasn’t too sure how long he had been in Rampart because his memory was a bit fuzzy about the details. The doctors assured him that as his headache became less intense, he would be able to keep his memories in order. He certainly hoped so.
Lieutenant Crockett had been in to take his statement, but Johnny couldn’t remember anything. He could vaguely recall that his Rover had been damaged but nothing after that. He had had no threats from anyone and they had had no abusive patients. The attack seemed to have no motive.
He was enjoying the peace and quiet of the evening. His friends had been in that day, keeping him company and although he had enjoyed their visits, Johnny was glad of the time alone. He was tired.
He was almost asleep when he heard his room door opening. Assuming it was a nurse, Johnny didn’t move. He was comfortable and his head only pounded a bit and moving seemed like far too much effort.
A large hand suddenly closed around his throat, squeezing hard and Johnny choked awake, flailing his hands to try and break the grip that was cutting off his oxygen. “You scum,” he heard a hoarse voice whisper. “You tried it on with my wife! I’ll teach you to keep your dirty hands to yourself.”
Stunned by the attack, Johnny tried to fight back, but he was too weak to break the choke hold on his throat. Suddenly, the hand was replaced by a forearm and two hands caught his left hand and forced it backwards. A strangled scream escaped his lips as the wrist snapped. His head swam desperately. As his fingers were also snapped, his eyes opened enough to catch a glimpse of a vaguely familiar man but his dazed brain could find no matching name.
“How’d you like that?” the man crowed. He had seldom felt as powerful as he did at that moment and Peter Draper knew he was doing the right thing. Dropping the mangled hand, he quickly changed his grip so he could repeat the damage on the other hand. He was slightly disappointed that the Injun was still conscious after all that, but everyone knew that Injuns were tough. Smiling down on the distressed man, Draper pulled the call button from the wall and threw it down on the bed. “Just remember this warning and keep away from my wife!”
With deplorable calm, Draper straightened his clothing and quietly left the room.
********************************
Gasping for breath, Johnny just lay there. He couldn’t summon any voice to cry for help and even if the call button hadn’t been sabotaged, he wouldn’t have been able to use it. Without the use of his arms, sitting up was impossible. His broken ribs were agony as his chest heaved in a desperate attempt to draw in more oxygen to his abused lungs. The pain in his hands was the worst thing he thought he had ever felt. Involuntary tears trickled out of his eyes.
He never knew how long he lay there in agony. However it long it was, it was too long. When the door finally opened to admit a nurse, Johnny almost passed out, such was the prospect of relief and help.
Thereafter, everything was confused. The nurse summoned more help. Dr Early came from the ER as did Dr Brackett. Someone called Roy and someone else called the police. X-rays were taken, orthopaedics was called in and before he quite knew where he was, Johnny was being taken to theatre to have his injuries treated under deep sedation.
****************************
“How is he?” Roy asked as he entered Johnny’s hospital room. His gaze fell on the empty bed and he couldn’t hold back a gasp. “Where…? What…?”
“He’s in theatre,” Dr Brackett told him. He saw at once that this bit of news had upset Roy almost as much as seeing the empty bed and hastened to explain. “Johnny’s got multiple fractures of his wrists and hands, Roy and we decided that it was best to take him to theatre under sedation to fix them. He was pretty distressed.”
“I don’t understand,” Roy admitted, slumping down in a seat. “He was fine when I left. The nurse said… said someone attacked him? How is that possible? And why?”
“We don’t know exactly when it happened,” Brackett admitted. “We think it must have been during visiting hours; nobody would have thought twice about anyone coming in here. The call button was pulled out of the wall and because the nurse expected Johnny to be asleep, she didn’t disturb him. We can’t blame her for that,” Brackett added. “His rest has been pretty fragmented since he was admitted.”
“What has Johnny said about this?” Roy asked.
“Nothing,” Brackett replied. His mouth twitched. “It looks like Johnny has been choked, Roy; his throat is very swollen and he can’t speak.”
“Oh my God!” Roy exclaimed, his eyes wide with horror. He found himself on his feet, pacing, although he didn’t remember rising. “I knew I should have stayed longer, but I’m working tomorrow and…”
“This isn’t your fault, Roy,” Brackett chided. “How were you to know a madman would break in here and attack Johnny?”
“A madman had already attacked Johnny,” Roy shot back. “That’s why he’s here; remember?”
“Roy, I agree that we should have had more security around Johnny,” Early soothed. “But the police hadn’t thought it necessary and so neither did we. None of us are to blame for what happened here; not Kel, me, you, the nurse and especially not Johnny. We can rectify that situation now, which I know isn’t good enough but it’s all we can do. What happened… happened. Now we need you to reassure Johnny that he will be safe this time.”
“Are you bringing him back to this room?” Roy asked. He looked at the mussed bed with distaste.
“No, he’ll be going to orthopaedics,” Brackett replied. “Besides, this is a crime scene.”
“So what are you still doing in here?” asked Crockett’s voice from the doorway. The black detective entered the room and gave a general scowl in the direction of the three men.
“Following the orders of your patrolman,” Early answered. “He told us to wait here and we told him to let Roy join us. He needed to know what happened. We’ve given our statements.”
“Yes, I have them,” Crockett replied. “I’ll need to speak to John as soon as I can.”
“I don’t know when that will be,” Brackett told him. “I don’t know how long it will be before John’s voice recovers.”
“You mean it might not?” Roy gasped. He felt faintly sick; everything was happening too fast.
“There’s always that chance,” Brackett admitted. “Until the swelling goes down, we won’t know for sure.” He glanced back at Crockett, who didn’t look pleased. “Nor will he be able to write anything; both his wrists were broken along with his fingers.”
“All of them?” Roy felt more than faintly sick now. He swallowed hard.
“It looked that way,” Early nodded. He put a supportive hand on Roy’s shoulder. “I know it sounds bad, but we don’t think that he’ll have any problems.”
“Any more problems,” Roy murmured.
“All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” Crockett declared. “I’ll have guards placed round the clock on Johnny’s door here at the hospital. How long do you think he’ll be here?”
“A few more days at least,” Brackett confirmed. “It will depend on how well he can eat and drink. And even then, he won’t be going home alone.”
“He’ll come to me,” Roy interjected.
“Good. Then when he does get out, I’ll have guards posted at your house, Roy. We’ve got to do everything we can to catch whoever did this.”
“I think you’re preaching to the choir here,” Roy jibed.
Unperturbed by Roy’s bitterness, Crockett simply nodded. He understood the other man’s anger; he felt it himself. “Sometimes even the choir needs to hear the good news,” he retorted calmly.
******************************
Wakening up was hideous. Vaguely, Johnny remembered he’d thought that before. It felt like he wasn’t getting quite enough air, despite the oxygen he could feel against his face. Swallowing was a nightmare and his hands felt weird. Forcing his eyes open, Johnny saw that he was in a hospital room, even if it wasn’t the same one he had been in before. As memory caught up, he remembered what had happened and his heart started pounding. He lifted his head and looked down at himself.
Both his arms were in casts to the elbow. They were supported on pillows and each of his fingers was encased in its own plaster bed. The sight was horrifying. He knew that if his hands did not heal properly, his career could be in jeopardy.
“Easy, Johnny,” Roy’s voice soothed. “The breaks were clean and the ortho doesn’t expect you to have any problems.” He placed his hand on Johnny’s arm above the cast and leaned over to look into his partner’s face. “Do you want some water?”
Partially reassured, Johnny nodded. His mouth was dry. He sipped the water cautiously and swallowed gingerly. He couldn’t prevent the groan that escaped him. Swallowing had not improved. He opened his mouth to ask Roy what had happened but only a croak emerged.
“Shh, don’t try to talk,” Roy told him. “Your throat is going to be sore for a few days I’m afraid. You want to know what happened? You were attacked.”
Instantly, Johnny’s memory flared into painful life and he flinched away from Roy leaning over him. Startled, Roy instinctively backed off, his eyes wide as he saw Johnny’s panic. He reached for the call button but even that act was fraught with menace for the injured man. His heart rate increased and sweat broke out on his brow. Johnny glanced around, looking for a way out, but his body felt heavy and lethargic, despite the adrenalin pumping through his system and as he sat up, his head swam. Johnny slumped back on the bed, feeling trapped.
The room door burst open, again triggering a memory for Johnny. He cringed back against his pillows, breath coming in short, painful gasps. He was feeling light-headed and a small voice inside told him he was hyperventilating but he couldn’t control his breathing. His broken ribs were hurting badly and his persistent headache was getting worse as his oxygen was depleted. Dimly, he was aware of a voice barking out orders and Roy’s hand tightening on his arm but he was unable to respond to either thing.
He fell into darkness.
**************************************
“What do you think happened?” Brackett asked. Johnny was still unconscious, but his breathing and heart rate had settled and they expected him to wake up any minute.
“I think he remembered,” Roy replied. “I think – and this is a guess – but I think something I did reminded him of the attack. After all, we know that the man must have leaned over him and I was doing that.” He frowned as he tried to remember exactly what he had done and compared it to the mussed bed he had seen in the other room. “And then I pressed the call button and that man pulled the call button from the wall. And – I don’t know, doc. Even you coming in might have been a memory.” Roy bit his lip. “I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean to scare him.”
“Roy, you did nothing wrong,” Brackett told him. He was amazed at Roy’s ability to take the blame for things that were not his fault, especially where his partner was concerned. “Its little wonder Johnny succumbed to a panic attack; so much has happened to him in the last few days. We need to be careful initially, but if I know Johnny, he’ll bounce back pretty quickly.”
A groan from the bed summoned both men and they turned to Johnny, careful not to lean over him. The dark eyes opened and peered at them blearily before Johnny tried to speak and a painful croak emerged. Slowly, Brackett and Roy came closer. “You’re fine, Johnny,” Brackett told him. “You hyperventilated and passed out.” After a moment, Johnny nodded. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
That brought more of a response. Johnny tried to sit up but failed. His eyes opened as wide as the swelling allowed and he glanced around the room anxiously. After a moment, he realised that this was not the room he had been in and his confusion registered on his face. He looked at Roy questioningly.
“You’re in orthopaedics,” Roy explained. Johnny nodded.
“Do you feel up to trying to answer some questions, Johnny?” Brackett asked. “Crockett wants to speak to you. I know you can’t talk or write, but he would like to speak to you tonight. Is that all right? I’ll tell him no if you feel it’s too much.”
Wearily, Johnny nodded. He couldn’t imagine that Crockett would get anything useful from him, but it would get it over with and he could try and sleep. As Brackett left the room, Johnny caught Roy’s eye and nodded towards the water. Smiling, Roy helped him drink. “I’m sorry I startled you,” he apologised as he settled the oxygen mask over Johnny’s mouth again. “I didn’t mean to.”
Grimacing, since snorting was out due to the broken nose, Johnny rolled his eyes and Roy gave a reluctant grin. “Does that mean I’m guilt-tripping again?” he asked and Johnny nodded, making another face under the mask. “And I take it that means I’ve to stop?” Again the nod and the older man smiled. “All right, all right, I’ll stop.” He looked at the quirked eyebrow and laughed. “I promise; I’ll stop! Honestly!” Johnny gave a short, emphatic nod and rested his head against the pillows.
Crockett came in with Brackett and smiled at Johnny. “Now, John, I understand you can’t talk, is that right?” A nod. “All right. Did you see the person who attacked you?” Another nod and Crockett looked slightly more cheerful. “Was it someone you’ve seen before?”
There was a pause and then Johnny nodded tentatively, shooting a glance at Roy as he did so. Crockett also glanced at Roy. “What does that mean? That you think you’ve both seen the person before?” Again the nod.
Thinking for a moment, Crockett studied the injured man. Johnny was glancing between him and Roy and Crockett didn’t think it was just for reassurance. “John, was the person a man?” Nod. “A white man?” Nod. Crockett thought some more. “Did you see him on a rescue?”
For a moment, Johnny looked startled, then thoughtful and then he was nodding vigorously, despite the thumping headache. He looked at Roy again, wishing that his partner could read his mind for he was almost sure that he knew which rescue it had been, but how could he tell them? He opened his mouth to talk, but Brackett forestalled him.
“Don’t try to talk, Johnny.” He glanced at Crockett and wondered which of them was the most frustrated – the cop or the paramedic. “Talking will strain everything more and you don’t want me to have to put you on a ventilator because your airway is swelling closed.”
Shoulders slumping in defeat, Johnny closed his eyes. He certainly didn’t want to be put on a ventilator. He felt bad enough without anything else being done to him. And at that, a thought occurred to him and he snapped his eyes open, feeling a surge of fear in his belly. How could he ask what he wanted to know?
The only person who noticed his distress was Roy, who placed his hand on Johnny’s arm again, frowning as he tried to work out what was wrong. Brackett and Crockett were conversing quietly regarding when Johnny might be able to identify his attacker. “Doc,” Roy said, and Brackett turned his head. “Johnny’s worried about something.”
Frowning, Brackett moved closer to the bed. Crockett came a pace or two closer. “I’ll leave you for the moment, John,” he said. “As soon as you’re able to talk, I’ll be back.” He essayed a smile and left. Johnny watched him go, all the things he wanted to say racing through his mind. He saw Crockett stop just beyond the threshold to speak to someone. Glancing at Roy, he nodded towards the door.
“Do you want to talk to Crockett again?” Roy asked, confused. He didn’t think that was it but he wasn’t sure what was on Johnny’s mind.
Frustrated, Johnny shook his head. Again, he tried to gesture towards the door, his anxiety spiralling as he failed to get his message across. He was about to talk anyway – Brackett’s orders be damned! – when Crockett stuck his head back into the room. “The guards are here, Dr Brackett. Could you come and tell them who is and isn’t allowed in here, just so no mistakes are made.”
“Yes, of course,” Brackett agreed. He glanced back at Johnny and saw to his relief that his patient had slumped back on the bed, looking highly relieved. “Johnny? Was that what was worrying you? That the man could get to you again?”
Exhausted by the events of the evening, Johnny nodded. He wanted nothing more now than to sleep dreamlessly. His eyes dipped closed and he missed seeing Brackett injecting something into the IV port, but he felt the effects almost at once and drifted gratefully away.
**************************************
It was all over the news again in the morning, despite the hospital’s attempts to keep it quiet. The crew gathered at Station 51 all listened anxiously as a tired Roy told them what had happened. Dave Stevenson, his temporary partner, was infuriated by the attack on a fellow firefighter but he didn’t feel half the anger that the rest of 51’s crew did.
“Gage thinks it was someone from a rescue?” Chet echoed. “How many rescues have you had lately involving men?”
“About as many as we’ve had involving women, Chet!” Roy snapped. He was usually the more even-tempered of the paramedics, but lack of sleep and worry had taken their toll on him. He really wasn’t in the mood for Chet to open his mouth before he had put his brain in gear, even if his question had been motivated by concern.
“Since we generally rescue people,” Mike Stoker, the soft-voiced engineer commented, “50% would be a good guess, Chet.”
The short, moustachioed firefighter looked embarrassed. Before he could say any more, Captain Stanley stepped in. “Roy, I’ll get permission from the chief and you can take the log book to the hospital. Perhaps John can show you which rescue and you can let Crockett know.”
This simple solution hadn’t occurred to Roy and he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thanks, Cap. That’s a great idea.”
“I’ve been known to have them now and again,” Stanley murmured modestly and took himself off to his office to phone the chief. The necessary permission wasn’t hard to get, for the brass at headquarters wanted to get the matter cleared up, too. The squad was taken out of service and Roy and Dave headed over to Rampart.
In another part of the city, Laura Draper was lying on the floor, her face throbbing and her broken leg trapped under her husband’s boot. “You are not going back to that hospital!” Peter shouted. “You just want to see that bloody Injun, don’t you?”
“I have an appointment at the fracture clinic, Peter,” Laura sobbed. “You took the letter yourself. Please, Peter, you’re hurting me!”
“I’ve heard lots of excuses from you over the years, Laura,” Peter sneered. “But this has to be the most pathetic one yet! An appointment! Very convenient. You think I wouldn’t notice you taking the elevator to the 4th floor?”
“How do you know what floor he’s on?” Laura whispered before she realised she would have been better to keep that thought to herself.
“Shut up, you stupid bitch!” Peter shouted and stamped down on her casted leg with all his might. Laura let out a scream. Peter ignored her, pulling the phone cord from the wall and throwing it down on top of her. “You’re not going anywhere,” he hissed and grabbed up his jacket and left.
*********************************
It only took Johnny a couple of minutes to point out the rescue he was thinking of. Crockett looked at the entry impassively. “You said it was a man,” he mentioned. Johnny nodded. “This rescue involves a woman.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but Johnny’s eyes flashed with anger any way. He glared at Crockett before turning to Roy.
“Was it the husband?” Roy asked, wrinkling his brow. “He was a bit…peculiar. Not very good in a crisis and he never went near his wife to comfort her.” He looked at Johnny who was nodding furiously. “Mr Draper?”
“All right, we’ll get an APB out on him. I’ll send officers to their home. This was a fall down stairs, yes?”
“Yes,” Roy replied slowly. “But she did have an awful lot of bruises. She said she was a klutz and lord knows we see enough people who can fall over their own feet walking on the flat. But I don’t know – there was just something about his attitude… Perhaps I’m remembering it differently now that I know it was he who hurt Johnny.”
“We’ll find out,” Crockett promised. “Thanks, Roy. Johnny, we’ll get back to you. Meantime, I’ll have a word with Dr Brackett since he treated the lady.” Crockett smiled at them and left the room.
“Well,” Roy muttered, “I guess we’d better get back. Do you need anything?”
Smiling, Johnny shook his head. What he needed Roy couldn’t provide. He needed to get out of there, get his voice back and his hands healed. And until that happened, there was nothing he needed.
“I’ll see you later then,” Roy promised and headed off to find Dave.
****************************************
The knock on the door woke Laura from a doze. “Come in!” she cried. “Oh please come in and help me!”
The door was locked but it didn’t take the police long to break in. Crockett crossed to where Laura was lying on the floor. “Ma’am are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” Laura sobbed. “I was supposed to go to fracture clinic today and my husband wouldn’t let me. He… he…” Laura’s courage failed her for a moment, but the kindness in the police lieutenant’s eyes gave her strength. “He hurt me!” she cried and burst into fresh tears.
“Where is your husband, Mrs Draper?” Crockett asked. He looked up at the officers accompanying him but they shook their heads. Draper was not in the house.
“I don’t know,” Laura admitted. “He was supposed to go to work after he’d taken me to the clinic but…” Laura swallowed. “I… I… think… think…” She stopped, the stricture against saying anything well ingrained.
“It’s all right, Mrs Draper,” Crockett told her kindly. “You’re safe now.” He offered her his handkerchief and while she mopped her tears he glanced over his shoulder. “Get a squad and ambulance,” he ordered. Turning back to Laura he asked, “Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, thank you.” Laura took a deep breath. Her kitten crept out from under the sofa where he had hidden when the furore started and came to sit on her lap. He rubbed his head on her hand and Laura drew courage from his love. “I think my husband had something to do with… with that paramedic getting hurt.”
“Thank you, Mrs Draper,” Crockett nodded. “We have had identification of your husband in that regard. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
Nodding, Laura drew another breath. “My husband… hits me. I want to charge him with assault – or something.”
“We’ll work something out,” Crockett smiled. He glanced over his shoulder as a shadow crossed the door. It was Roy with his equipment. “Thank you, Mrs Draper.”
Kneeling down, Roy found a smile for the woman. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“Better now, thank you,” she replied. As Roy set about taking her vital signs, she said, “Oh, what about Fred? I can’t leave him here with Peter. He’d hurt him.”
A large woman entered the house. “I’ll look after Fred, dear and you can come and stay with me when you get out of the hospital until you get back on your feet.” She turned to the bemused men and said, “I’m Penny Taylor from across the road. I’ve kept my eye on poor Laura since she moved in here. I’ll make sure she’s all right.”
“Oh thank you, Penny,” Laura cried and burst into tears again. Fred the kitten was handed over to Penny and Laura was taken to the ambulance. Crockett watched it leave. Laura Draper was safe, Johnny was under guard but that still didn’t help him.
Where was Peter Draper?
*****************************
There was no sign of Peter Draper at all. He hadn’t turned up at his work; he didn’t show up at his home. His wife was admitted to Rampart for surgery on her broken leg and Crockett placed guards on her door, too. Laura was but a few doors from Johnny’s room, making it easier for the policemen on duty to keep an eye on them both, but Draper made no attempt to see either of them.
Within a couple of days, Johnny’s voice started to come back. Overall, he was feeling a lot better. His headache was kept at a manageable level and his concussion symptoms were resolving. He was finally allowed out of bed and a few hours a day sitting in a chair did wonders for his mood. When he could, Roy would take him out to the courtyard for some fresh air.
Yet he was still unsettled. Johnny wanted to go home, but knew that he would be unable to look after himself for several weeks to come. Much as he loved the DeSoto family, he longed for his familiar solitude and the opportunity to simply slob out when the feeling took him. At the moment, he was unable to do anything for himself and he found it embarrassing and frustrating.
“You seem a bit down,” Roy commented the next day when he went in.
“I’m all right,” Johnny replied listlessly.
“You don’t sound it,” Roy ventured. “Are you feeling all right?” He automatically reached out to feel Johnny’s forehead but the younger man ducked.
“I’m fine!” Johnny snapped. “Geez, Roy, don’t you think the nurses would have noticed if I was running a temp? They have to do everything for me – I think they might notice.”
“Sorry,” Roy apologised but he now knew what was wrong with Johnny. “Come on, let’s go and get some fresh air. What’s Dr Brackett saying about you getting out of here?”
“Nothing yet,” Johnny replied gloomily. He sighed heavily as he got awkwardly to his feet and sat carefully in the wheelchair. He wanted to walk to the courtyard but he was still too weak. Too much exertion caused his headache to get worse and his ribs were still very tender. With both his arms in slings, it was better that he went in the chair so that he didn’t get accidentally bumped as he had no way to catch himself should he get knocked off balance.
Johnny’s guard joined them on their trek but when they reached the courtyard, he peeled off to go and get coffee and donuts for them. Roy pushed Johnny out into the sunshine. The courtyard was deserted as it was a little early for normal visiting hours. Johnny closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun.
And all hell broke loose. Something hit him hard enough to rock the wheelchair and before he could do more than gasp, he was knocked to the ground, something heavy falling on top of him. His breath was knocked from his lungs and pain shot through his head, ribs and arms. Then the weight was gone and Johnny concentrated on breathing, vaguely hearing shouting.
As Roy had reached to set the brake on the wheelchair, a man emerged from the bushes close by and charged at Roy, throwing their combined weights against the wheelchair. Johnny was knocked to the ground. Roy fell on top of him and the man fell on top of Roy.
But Roy didn’t have time to worry about Johnny. He was hauled to his feet and a huge fist swung at his face. He ducked slightly, but not nearly enough and it felt as though his head had exploded. He had no chance to try and rally his resources as the fists continued to hammer into his body over and over again.
His legs suddenly rubber, Roy collapsed to the ground. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. He was aware of the sound of a scuffle close by and let out a weak cry as someone stood on him. He fought to get air past the constriction in his abdomen.
Then a voice shouted, “Hey!” and more footsteps raced towards the downed man and Roy’s breath came back with a jolt. He drew in several sharp breaths and managed to lift his head.
Johnny lay a few feet away, his eyes closed. Roy blinked and glanced at the fight still raging beside him. Johnny’s guard was taking a licking, but he was giving as good as he got and the assailant – Peter Draper, Roy realised – was looking rather worse for wear.
Struggling to his feet, Roy wondered who he should help first – Johnny or the cop. But before he could make a decision, Draper broke free and turned to run. Immediately, the cop unshipped his gun. “Police! Halt!” he ordered and when there was no response, he fired.
For an instant, Roy thought the cop had missed, but then Draper faltered, stumbled and fell. He wasn’t down for more than a moment before he pushed himself up. The cop swore and ran after him, still holding his weapon. “Stop!” he cried but Draper ignored him, pushing through a hole in the wire fence and staggering into the car park. The cop followed, leaving Roy and Johnny alone.
Still stunned, Roy gazed at the fleeing men. A cry rose in his throat as he saw an ambulance sweep into the driveway. It made no difference. Draper ran right into its path and although the driver made a valiant attempt to avoid the running man, struck Draper full on. Roy saw the man’s body fly into the air and bounce off the hood of the ambulance and smack hard onto the ground. The ambulance slewed around, coming to an abrupt halt and the cop slithered to a halt, leaning over to check for a pulse. As the cop straightened slowly, Roy turned away.
He stumbled the few feet to Johnny’s side and slumped to the ground. Every part of him hurt but he ignored his own problems to reach for Johnny’s pulse in his throat. It was steady, giving Roy hope and comfort. At the touch, Johnny opened his eyes. “Roy… you… are you… all right?”
“I will be,” Roy told him. “What about you? You didn’t try to fight him, did you?”
“Tried,” Johnny admitted. He found a painful smile. “He was hurting you.” He grimaced. “I hurt,” he complained.
For a moment, Roy had no idea what he should do. The adrenalin was leaving his system and he felt exhausted and pulped. Fortunately, the alarm had been raised and a doctor, orderlies and nurses came streaming through the door into the courtyard and Roy was more than happy to let them take over.
************************************
The fracas in the courtyard resulted in Johnny spending another week in Rampart, as the fall from the wheelchair and his attempts to rescue Roy had done none of his injuries any favours. His headache had intensified to the point that he became light sensitive again and the staff kept an anxious watch lest the pressure in his brain started to rise. His ribs were extremely painful but luckily had not displaced and so Johnny’s lungs were safe. His arms were sore from being used as clubs and Johnny found himself once more confined to bed.
Roy had fared better. He was badly beaten, his eyes going black and swelling, but nothing was broken. He was kept overnight for observation but was allowed to go home the next day and advised to take a couple of shifts off to allow the bruising to settle a bit. Johnny’s guard was also admitted for observation, complaining loudly that he was fine, although he had a dramatic gash to his head.
It was after he was settled into a room – yet another room! – this time with Roy, that Johnny discovered what had happened to Draper. The cop had had excellent aim, shooting Draper in the leg, as he had intended, to disable his opponent. However, the collision with the ambulance had caused internal injuries and Draper had bled to death before he could reach an operating room.
“I don’t quite know what to think,” Johnny admitted to Crockett who came with Brackett to give them the news. He also didn’t want to admit that trying to think with that headache was almost an impossibility. “I’m glad it’s over but…”
“You didn’t want him dead,” Brackett supplied. Johnny nodded slightly. “None of us ever thought you did, Johnny.”
“I still don’t understand why he came after me,” Johnny mused.
“From what Mrs Draper told us, he’s been abusing her since they were married,” Crockett explained. “She thinks that perhaps something you said made him think you knew of the abuse. Draper also didn’t like you because you are a Native American. He didn’t like any minority. He seemed to think that his wife wanted to run off with you when she mentioned that you had been kind to her. He seems to have been completely unbalanced.”
“How’s Mrs Draper?” Johnny asked. His eyes were closing now, the need for sleep sweeping over him.
“She’s all right,” Brackett assured him. “Cried when she heard what had happened, but I suspect that was as much relief as anything else.”
“Good,” Johnny murmured and fell asleep.
**********************************
Three months later, Johnny walked back into Station 51 at the beginning of his first shift back since he had been attacked. He was feeling great. All his injuries had healed and he had enjoyed his stay with the DeSotos once he got his casts off. He had come to terms with what had happened to him and was relaxed, tanned and smiling as he cautiously opened his locker. A welcome-back water balloon wouldn’t have been a surprise.
“Welcome back, Johnny,” Mike Stoker said, as he entered the locker room.
“Great to have you back, Johnny,” Marco told him as he came in.
“Oh, Gage,” Chet said, sounding disappointed. “I thought you’d be late, given that you’ve not had to get up for months. I was sure you’d get latrine duty first day back.”
“I love you, too, Chet,” Johnny replied, unperturbed.
They lined up for roll call and Roy and Johnny exchanged a smile. They had both missed this in the past few months. Roy always felt as though he was missing a part of himself when Johnny was out.
Captain Stanley looked up from his clipboard. “Welcome back, John,” he said simply.
Grinning, Johnny replied, “It’s good to be back.”
The End
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